London Stone

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  WHEN you come to London Town,
  (Grieving-grieving!)
  Bring your flowers and lay them down
  At the place of grieving.

  When you come to London Town,
  (Grieving-grieving!)
  Bow your head and mourn your own,
  With the others grieving.

  For those minutes, let it wake
  (Grieving-grieving!)
  All the empty-heart and ache
  That is not cured by grieving.

  For those minutes, tell no lie:
  (Grieving-grieving!)
  "Grave, this is thy victory;
  And the sting of death is grieving."

  Where's our help, from earth or heaven,
  (Grieving-grieving!)
  To comfort us for what we've given,
  And only gained the grieving.

  Heaven's too far and earth too near,
  (Grieving-grieving!)
  But our neighbour's standing here,
  Grieving as we're grieving.

  What's his burden every day?
  (Grieving-grieving!)
  Nothing man can count or weigh,
  But loss and love's own grieving.

  What is the tie betwixt us two
  (Grieving-grieving!)
  That must last our whole lives through?
  "As I suffer, so do you."
  That may ease the grieving.

© Rudyard Kipling